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c h aP t e r 21

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week later, I was beginning to feel more as if I were stuck
in the Sedona vortex than being transformed by it in any
beneficial way. We had been there now for two weeks. But
aside from my freaky cult experience, some skinny dipping, sleeping
with bugs, and checking out a few bookstores, we hadn’t done much
of our originally intended canyon exploring, due to an unexplained
complacency that was affecting all three of us. And having passed
on the commune, I now had even less idea of what was happening
in my spontaneous, ungrounded existence than before I’d arrived in
this surreal desert town.
I decided that it was time to move on, in hopes that getting back
on the road, doing something different, would be a catalyst for inner
change as well. Natty and Apollo were staying another week or so,
to keep some didgeridoo healing appointments they’d already made.
They planned to go to a Mayan ceremonial gathering of some sort at
the Four Corners Monument a week later, that they’d read about on
another book store bulletin board; and I said I’d think about meeting
up with them there. In the meantime, I was going to set my sails and
see which way the wind might blow me.
The next day, I packed up and hiked from my bug-ridden cliff
dwelling down to the highway at the north end of town, intend-
ing to hitch in the general direction of the Grand Canyon. Maybe I
would make it down into the canyon this time and have a spiritual
revelation that would give me some insight as to where all this was
leading.
After an hour of standing with my thumb out, I got a ride to Flag-
staff. From there, I got another ride, about fifteen miles further north.